Treading the line
by Moratorium19
Summary: Even though he was twelve, Reborn thought he had seen it all. He was proved wrong when he met Tsunayoshi, who asserted that intergalactic fauna was more diverse than he might imagine. Targeted by an eldritch, Ancient One of unfathomable powers and unmentionable origins, he might give the assertion some credence. R27? A Lovecraft and Camus-inspired tale.
1. Chapter 1

Four hundred fifty-nine feet. That is the height of what the locals call the Basilica di San Giovanni. I watch the masses come to and fro, adoration, laughter, awe, and a myriad of other feelings painted on their faces. It is a grotesque spectacle. If I could, I would have felt sick.

"I did not take you for a religious person," I say neutrally. I have no opinion on religions. I simply cannot rationalize it, therefore judging seems like a moot point.

"Amusing how you have such preconceptions. You're the last person I expected to harbor any expectations toward anybody," my interlocutor says, his dark gaze an almost palpable weight bearing down on me.

My lips twitch. "I do not. That was merely pleasantry."

A dry chuckle answers me while the boy's hand adjusts the hat perched upon his head. The glare of the sun does not seem to bother him, though. It must have been more out of habit than anything else.

"So, what brings you here?" His voice is neither hostile nor gentle. That is what I like about him. Straight up business, no feelings attached. Was it like having a - what's it called? - one night stand? I ponder silently.

"Can I not visit a friend?" I answer simply, an eyebrow arched.

"You need to introduce them to me, then. Last time I checked, you were woefully alienated." A smirk stretches his lips. My lips curl upward, as they were often wont to do in his presence. My eyes rove over the carved figures perched on top of the basilica before they are inevitably drawn back to the presence which commands all attention.

"In your opinion, what is the greatest sin?" I see him narrow his eyes before a scoff answers my query.

"Obviously hubris. I fail to see your point." His impatience leaks through and I gorge on that like a thirsty man discovering an oasis.

"Patience is more precious than rubies." I rebut softly, my words neither condemning nor really angry.

"Is it not wisdom? If I gather something from our past interactions, it is that you are in need of something I can provide. Adding to that the point you just made about pride..." his eyes widen a fraction, then a sardonic smile replaces the smirk.

"Someone is challenging the throne? Let me guess, I was chosen as a champion to defend it?"

The bells ring loud and clear. It is annoying.

"Precisely." And what more was there to add? I never once underestimated his brilliant mind.

He does not question why he was chosen, does not complain, nor does he say anything superfluous. Grim resolve and acceptance settle like they had always been there.

A rip in the fabric of reality. The sun is smothered and time stutters to a halt, as if the great cosmic clock has run out of energy.

Eldritch creatures pour down from the amorphous nether, sliding through the gaps in reality. Their feelers, haphazardly distributed across their bulbous heads, twitch with excitement for the coming bloodletting. Hooters are not the most aesthetical beings, though they are perfectly harmless.

The boy does not look surprised. He simply watches everything unfolding with the eerie focus he seems to display in most dire situations.

Then, one by one, other, much more dangerous beings are summoned to this realm. They sneer and jeer in an unordered cacophony of noises which are so far removed from humanity it is a wonder the boy has not yet lost his sanity listening to them.

A massive creature pushes through the crowd, its mean of transportation foreign to the human mind as it crosses the distance separating the mass of demons and us.

Its mouth, a thin, badly drawn line, opens. It is an aperture, going from the midsection to the upper body.

"It has come, and so should it end. The one who desires the throne comes forth. Who shall humble them?"

"Reborn." The boy grounds out, his voice dark and dangerous.

"It is so. Who shall observe?"

"Tsunayoshi," I answer, respecting common etiquette.

"It is so. Who shall destroy?"

"I will." A voice thunders from amongst the assorted creatures. It is a mix between an owl's hoot and a galaxy spinning.

A cruel-looking blend of talon and tentacles grabs a Hooter and throws it Reborn's way with tremendous strength. The Hooter sails through the air, faster than a bullet.

Reborn ducks under the creature, his hand pushing on his hat to keep it attached to his head. The announcer is not so lucky, and the thrown projectile carves a hole the size of a basketball in its huge body. The blasphemous being collapses in a pile of terrifyingly alien matter.

I step back, since it is not my fight, loathe as I am to admit it. The challenger steps toward reborn; its avian feet imprinting deeply on the ground, leaving footprints on the concrete.

A poke on my arm brings my eyes to Nal'zhar, the eldritch broker. His head, a shifting tetrahedron of quickly morphing dimensions emits light at odd intervals. I don't know the exact mechanism, but the odd blinks translate into speech.

" _Will you bet on either of them?_ " It tilts its head.

I shrug. "Sure. What's the wager?"

" _The right to rule a sector, or a set of_ keys."

I hum thoughtfully while I watch Reborn dance around his prey, for the frustrated creature cannot be labeled as anything but one, while cogs shift in my head.

"I'll bet the key of power. On the human." It was like dropping a bomb.

The beings around us fall deathly silent at the proclamation. Then, a true cacophony of noise echoes. Everyone wants to bet on the challenger. Shouts and hoots and universes expanding and contracting, a contrasting blend of harmonics too perfect and too disturbing to belong to a reasonable hearing range.

I smile lightly. The higher the risk, the sweeter the reward.

Reborn's hand slips inside his jacket. He withdraws an item with alarming alacrity. There is a flash of white-cored, yellow-enveloped flames and with a resounding bang, the challenger topples over; a hole the size of a grapefruit perforating its nebulous head.

A crushing grip on my shoulder, followed by a harsh pull and I find myself face to face with Barkhan, the Usurper. They breathe harshly through the snake-like slits in their otherwise featureless face.

"You cheated. You did not mention the boy had flamessss."

The sibilant hiss, coming from a round, slightly off-axis orifice located on the front of its barrel-like torso, is positively furious.

"You did not ask?" I say, more of a question than a statement. What did they want from me?

Their face colors green and the slits dilate in their ire.

The hole lets out a series of barks, growls, hisses, hoots. I shake my head. What was it with Eldritch creatures and their uncanny speaking habits? Fixating a stern glare on him, my sky flames pour out, quickly smothering their storm ones and beating them into submission.

"You seem to be under the mistaken assumption you can do anything other than wail at your loss. Remove your hand, or I will remove it for you. I assure you, you won't like my method."

Like they had put their hand on a burning stove, Barkhan quickly retracts their appendage. They go away, whining pitifully. Serves them right. I do not like people accusing me unjustly.

My intuition tickles me, an itch under my skin I cannot scratch and alleviate.

The ground shakes and groans, the sky churns and drips like melting ice caps, revealing the amorphous nether beyond.

A single eye made of writhing tentacles and dead flesh and unearthly matter is staring down at us.

I smile wanly.

That would explain why I had such an itch.

* * *

If Reborn had to describe what he felt when everything went to shit, abject terror was not a word he would choose. His twelve years old mind knew, from the moment he had met Tsunayoshi, that he was treading on a fine line between certifiably insane and insanely brave. So, he had no choice but to accept the fact that his fraying mind would behold more and more feats of an alien, profoundly wrong nature.

However, the presence which manifested itself in a great somersault of decaying reality superseded what his wild imagination could conjure.

A primal, vicious feeling of dread seized his senses, ensnaring his tumultuous mind. Should he run? Hide? Fight?

Such chaotic thoughts battled before the impossibility of what his eyes conveyed to his brain. It's not your eyes that see, it's your brain, he told himself. Be as it may, how could his brain map out something which was beyond the realm of possible existence and more along the line of a badly designed horror novel?

His heart beat a furious tempo inside his chest, pumping him full of adrenaline. How could he fight something which even Tsunayoshi was deferring to, judging by his paling face and demure demeanor? Nonsensical, absurd and beyond idiotic, that was what it was.

His grip on his gun faltered for the briefest of instants and Reborn had the distant feeling that the unmentionable entity felt it.

"To what do I owe the visit of the Most Ancient and noble One?" Tsunayoshi said, his tone while not subservient, a great deal more tame than what Reborn was used to.

The giant, writhing mass of matter that made the eye of the entity seemed to swirl in a disordered manner, as if caught in an invisible maelstrom of conflicted origin. The planet tilted on its axis a few degrees, before righting itself. And suddenly, knowledge was infused into his head. More like forcefully drilled.

He nearly threw up the pain was so bad. Reborn grit his teeth to get a grip before he irrevocably lost it.

" _King of the southern plane, you went above and beyond your duty. For that, a reward is in order._ "

Tsunayoshi bowed his head. "Words cannot express my gratitude."

More words poured inside his head and Reborn groaned at the unholy feeling.

" _Indeed. I am particularly interested in the potential humans possess. Why don't you let me study the specimen who defended your honor? I will grant you any key you might wish for in exchange, even a personal one._ "

Reborn's heart skipped a beat. Then, the spike of fear gave way to a hurricane of rage. Him, a mere specimen? A lab rat under that cursed creature's disgusting eye? He tensed, his hand adjusting the hat on his head, casting shadows over his eyes.

"Absolutely not," Tsunayoshi said, simultaneously quelling his anger and worries.

The crowd, which had been mute and reverential until now gasped and muttered. Reborn watched silently; uncomprehendingly.

" _You would defy my will?_ "

Tsunayoshi said nothing. He simply kept his head bowed.

" _You are Old, true. But you are not Ancient. Very well. You seem to like humans enough to defy my direct command._ _Given the circumstances, you will be put on probation. A period of ten earthly years. As a human. Then, I shall meticulously inspect your human self._ "

There was wretched, perverse maliciousness in the tone. So much so, that Reborn did not know whether to fear for Tsunayoshi or be relieved that it chose to spare him ghastly torments.

He cursed his own cowardice.

Ten years, huh? His fists clenched to a painful point.

He would show it then.

This Eldritch, foolish Ancient One or whatever, would rue the day it had dared lay its putrid eye on Tsunayoshi and him.

That, he promised.

* * *

 **Hmmm. Where to begin? This began as a writing and stylistic exercise in order to flex my literary muscle, expand my writing palette, so to speak. Since my first story, I believe I have come far, but I still have a (very) long way to go. Now looking back at my old drafts, I am appalled at how bad what I have written up to now was.**

 **Anyway, hope you enjoyed this small piece, more should be coming soon.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **PurpleDraught**


	2. Chapter 2

I flex my hand, staring at it with detached interest. It is smaller than I am used to. Of course, when I relinquished my Old self, I expected something along those lines to happen. The morphing has been done perfectly, and I cannot feel any of the many keys I gathered over eons. I did not mourn their loss, since it was for the 'greater good', as ambiguous a concept as a moral compass is.

Reborn watches silently, his eyes narrowed and a frown marring his forehead. He is too young to frown like that. He breaks the silence.

"You have nothing to say?" He looks both incredulous and pissed.

"What should I talk about?" I answer calmly, hoping my tone would soothe his anger.

"Oh, I don't know, what about the fact you accepted to live as a human? Or the fact that you turned twelve. Shouldn't we talk about that?" Something gleams in his eyes, a raw emotion I would be incapable of identifying.

"Should we?" I am genuinely surprised.

He exhales suddenly, taking off his hat and brushing a hand through his neatly-combed hair. His breathing is shaky, and it is the first time I see him as disturbed as right now.

"For god's sake, you have forsaken everything you were, just to protect me. That ought to count for something, no? Why did you do it?"

His expression is beseeching. Is it the first time...?

"Is this the first time someone shows you kindness?" Words tumble out of my mouth without my consent. I nearly curse.

His mood turns sullen without any precursor sign. His mouth turns downward, and he looks contrived as if he has swallowed something especially foul. He gulps and my eyes follow the movement of his Adam's apple bobbing.

Something flutters in my chest, a warm feeling akin to my sky flames, but somehow much more precious.

"What are you smiling for?" He grinds out. For some unknown reason, he is averting his eyes.

I touch my face, wide-eyed and find that I am literally beaming. My hands drop and my smile turns much softer. Controlled, this time.

"I am sorry. It must have been the chemical imbalance from the transition."

He arches one brow, looking at me with suspicious eyes. He drops the subject and instead brings another one up. One much more sensible.

"What are we going to do?" He asks gruffly.

"We?" He never ceases to amaze me and I stare at him in wonder.

He scoffs. "Of course. What, did you think I would let you fend for yourself in an unknown environment, surrounded by unfamiliar faces, and without your powers?"

The flame is fanned into a fully blazing inferno. It feels awfully hot right now.

A sly smile on his face, Reborn asks. "You're blushing. Are you eight?"

"As a matter of fact, I am twelve. And we are simply going to live like you usually do. You're a hitman, right? Why don't you teach me? I am a fast learner."

I refuse to discuss the fact that I blushed.

It's embarrassing.

* * *

Reborn's eyebrows rose skyward. Teach him how to be a hitman? He supposed he could do that. He didn't want to doubt Tsunayoshi's capabilities, especially since he had been the ruling entity of a whole goddamn plane, and it wasn't like he wanted to protect his innocence, or anything.

"Alright," he said, putting his trademark hat atop his head. "It's not going to be easy, you know?" Reborn says, walking toward the back alleys.

"The eldritch say I am quite hard when I want to be, don't worry," Perhaps it was the fact that it was said in a completely innocent tone of voice, without any innuendo intended, which made Reborn _nearly_ falter.

Goddamn, how could he say something like this with a straight face? And damn the people he hung out with for putting such dirty thoughts in his mind. He had never had sexual arousal before, for Christ's sake. It's just that, well, sex was part of the lifeblood of mafia, so one could not ignore this whole facet when embroiled in mafia affairs.

Oblivious to all that, Tsunayoshi walked beside him with childlike wonder in his caramel eyes. He cast a curious glance at Reborn.

"How did you become a hitman so young? Is that not a job left for human adults?"

Reborn gently pushed Tsunayoshi's face, which was really close, away. His answer was a hushed whisper. "First, you're too close. Second, you just need to give a gun to someone to make them a murderer. Even a child. Third, it's not a job. Fourth, don't speak so loud, people might overhear."

"Then, if it is not a job, what is it?" His tone was much softer this time.

Reborn's eyes gleamed and he whispered conspiratorially, "It's a way of life."

Reborn knocked thrice on a nondescript door. "Mama, open. It's me, Michelangelo."

The door creaked as it was pushed open the slightest bit. An eye appeared through the aperture. The door then closed.

A few seconds went by, then the door opened and a slightly chubby Italian woman wearing an apron wiped her wet hands on her clothes.

"Come in." She said, beckoning both boys inside. Once they were inside, she closed the door, which creaked one last time. Then, she left the entry hall and went into the kitchen.

"Was that your mother?" Tsunayoshi asked. Reborn had never told him who his mother was.

"Obviously not. This is a mere front. A facade, if you will. My true mother's dead," Reborn said without missing a beat, walking toward the living room. The living room was an enclosed space, without any window. The door was the only entrance and exit. A man was sitting in the living room, on a cream-colored couch, reading a newspaper, with black-tinted glasses shielding his eyes.

"Michelangelo, is that you?" He asked uncertainly, his voice trembling slightly.

"No, it's damned Santa Claus," Reborn said, retrieving a few items from his pants. He slammed them on the table in front of the man.

"Upper left central, upper left lateral and upper left cuspid. Now, can you drive us to the headquarters or do I have to go there myself?" Reborn asked, sounding particularly exhausted.

The man rose from his seat and folds the newspaper neatly, laying it on the table next to the teeth. His hand swept them, he put them in a small box before sliding it inside his jacket.

"Of course. Please, follow me." They were led to an underground garage. The car they entered was spacious and very comfortable.

"The cardinal Alfonso was a great man. Harsh, but just. It's a shame he passed away," the man said, shaking his head. His grip on the steering wheel was firm but supple.

"Well, he wasn't particularly appreciated by the Cosa, was he? Particularly his anti-criminality mindset. He was a likely candidate for the papacy, after all. Funny how religion is what criminals abide by, but they are willing to erase a man of God for doing what is right."

"Alas, we live in troubled times," the man acquiesced. Looking at the silent Tsunayoshi via the rear-view mirror, he asked, "And who is this young man?"

"No one you need to know." And it was the truth.

Pushing his glasses up his nose, the man hummed. "Of course. Well, please relax, the road is long."

After all, the trip from Rome to Palermo was at least a ten hours ride.

Relaxing music filled the vehicle.

Antonio Vivaldi, Le quattro stagioni.

Reborn watched Tsunayoshi, who was taking in the various sights like he was starved for landscapes.

He subconsciously relaxed.

Yes, they would manage to get to the bottom of this dark supernatural story.

And, perhaps, life would not be so bad once they did.


End file.
